


A Royal Banquet

by Enide_Dear



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, and gandalf hasn't left yet, at my whim, because that gives me a chance to torture them, bur boromir and bard survived, but he damn well soon will after this fic I tell you, kind of an everyone lives au, set after the war of the ring, very angry elves, very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enide_Dear/pseuds/Enide_Dear
Summary: Thranduil invites some of the Fellowship to Eryn Lasgalen after the War because he suspects someone there is in love with his son - and vice versta. It's up to the Fellowship to try to keep Legolas and Gimli's relationship a secret, but the cost might be higher than the thought in terms of absolute mortification.Silly.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 14
Kudos: 220





	A Royal Banquet

“Why does your father want to meet us?” Aragorn asked after the greetings had been completed and the sylvan elves had taken their weary horses to Mirkwood stables. “A message was delivered saying it was an urgent matter.”

“He wouldn’t tell me.” Legolas shrugged. “But I suspect it is nothing more than wanting to negotiate some trade deal with Gondor. Still it’s wonderful to have the Fellowship gathered once more.”

“Some of it, at least.” Mithrandir lit his pipe as the elven prince led them into the underground halls. “We seem to be lacking in anyone shorter than 5 feet.”

“Shire is a long way off, through perilous roads. My father wouldn't send for them unless in absolute need and now the Ring is destroyed I fail to see what such need could be.” He smiled. “Better we visit them, after our business here is done.”

“Most of us don’t have the luxury of being able to wander off into the blue at a whim any more,” Boromir grumbled. “Queen Arwen and my brother might be able to cover for a while, but Gondor needs its King and Stewart back as soon as can be.”

“And you are avoiding a certain issue,” Aragorn said gently. “The hobbits are understandable but why isn’t Gimli here?”

“You are asking why *my* father didn’t invite a *dwarf*?” Legolas said a bit too lightly, avoiding their eyes. 

“We’re just wondering why he didn’t invite his sons fiance…” Mithrandir started but a look somewhere between pity and understanding swept over him. “Oh I see. You haven’t told him yet?”

“Let me show you to your rooms and let you freshen up before dinner tonight.” Hurrying away through the palace-like caverns, Legolas ignored the question. 

"So he still haven't told his father?" Boromir said as they met up a few hours later, refreshed from the journey and dressed up for dinner with the Woodland King.

"It's none of our business." Aragorn said firmly. "And it is not our place to tell him either."

"I doubt the conversation will even come up," Gandalf shrugged, "Seeing as how Gimli was not even invited. This dinner is probably just a show of goodwill and laying the groundwork for future trade agreements."

Legolas met up with them and showed them to the spacious dining hall, lit by lamps and the day's last light filtering in through beautiful mosaic windows. Boromir couldn't help but being a bit nervous. It wasn't the title that made him jumpy; after all as a Stewart he dealt with the King of Gondor on a daily basis along with any number of foreign diplomats and heads of states. But no matter how foreign those people might be, they were still human. Elves were still unreadable and unpredictable to him and he was glad to have both Aragorn and Gandalf along.

Difficult to read as elves were, Boromir had still travelled long enough with one of them to see the surprise and uncertainty flash over Legolas face as the Prince looked around the dining room, complete with white linen and enough silver cutlery and crystal glasses to indicate a five course dinner at least. Servants as well as guards stood along the wall and Boromir was glad that Aragorn insisted they bring their very finest clothing.

"Father," legolas said with a bow to the head of the table. "I thought we were just having a small dinner in the garden. Why all this?"

King Thranduil sat at the head of the table, looking as cold and composed and splendid as he had on all the few occasions Boromir had seen him before. The crown on his head was summer flowers this time. He raised a careful eyebrow at his son.

"Considering the weight of what must be discussed, I thought it more suitable to have the dinner here. Don't you agree?" the chill answer could have cowered anyone, but Legolas simply crossed his arms over his chest and glared back

"I don't know. Since you have not told any of us what matter you wish to discuss."

"We will get to that later. For now, let's hold to formalities and introduce ourselves."

Boromir was glad he knew all about court manners and managed to get through the introduction without any incidents, but he was extremely aware that the elven kings eyes seemed to want to drill their way into his head and it made him sweating nervous. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something very wrong, even to the point of personally offending the woodland king, even though he couldn't for his life imagine what that might be. He was fiercely glad when his introduction was over and the piercingly angry eyes fell just as hard on Aragorn, even though that made no more sense.

They sat down for the first course, a clear soup that smelled heavenly, and they barely had time to taste it before Thranduil addressed Boromir.

"So you are the new Steward of Gondor. My son has spoken of you."

"Um, yes your Majesty." Boromir, dragging up every etiquette lesson he'd even had, put the spoon down as he spoke. "He spoke very fondly of you as well, on your journey together."

"Fondly? You are lying of course." Boromir was glad that he'd had put the spoon down as it seemed Mithrandir had suddenly dropped his and Aragorn was choking on his soup.

Slightly panicked, Boromir tried to come up with and answer to that.

"Of course not, your Majesty! He spoke fondly of your....your...." he fumbled for an answer while sweating under the blue stare and finally came up with. "Archery...lessons?" in something close to a squark.

"I see. And what of you Mithrandir? Did my son show himself a worthy companion on your journey?" The focus anger turned suddenly and unexpectedly on the wizard, who took up his glass and swallowed half his wine in one gulp before answering.

"He was a very doughty warrior who showed a cold head and unclouded judgement in times of peril." Mithrandir said, coughing a little around the strong wine.

"Cold head and unclouded judgement? So these rumours I have been hearing about drinking games in the taverns of Rohan are not true?" Thranduil still kept his eyes on the wizard.

"Well some festivities to celebrate victory is to be expected. I assure you your son is no more fond of drinking than I am." Gandalf managed.

"Ah. Well I see your glass is empty, Mithrandir. If you would please - yes, fill his glass. So, Archery and drinking. What else did nine companions come up with to pass time on such a long journey? Did my son perhaps find someone to enchant his heart?"

It was lucky that Thranduil turned that question to Aragorn for Gandalf had turned as white in his face as his name-sake clothing and was quickly downing his wine. Bur Thranduil stared at the King of Gondor now and Aragorn, who had once stared down Sauron, was squirming like a worm on a hook.

"Ada, I'm sitting right here! Ask me and stop embarrassing my friends!" Legolas had not taken a single bite of his soup and was glaring back, but Thranduil paid him no heed.

"It's...um...our journey mostly took us through the lands of Men, and so we met few elves at all...." Aragorn tried to deflect without outright lying.

"Oh? I'd thought both Imladris and Lothlorien were full of elves even in these days? You are telling me no one there caught his eye?"

Boromir wasn't aware of the sound of glass breaking until he realized he'd crushed the stem of the crystal glass between in fingers in panic.

"Please give the Steward of Gondor a new glass and clean that up," Thranduil sighed and turned back to Aragorn who'd had a moment to collect himself. "Well?"

"As far as I know, there were no elven maid to whom Legolas gave his heart," Aragorn stated with uttermost care.

"Stop torturing everyone here, ada. If you want to know matters of my heart, speak directly to me." Legolas managed through gritted teeth.

"Very well." Thranduil waited as the mostly untouched soup was removed and another dish - thin slices of smoked fish decorated with edible flowers - was served along with wine. "So, Aragorn, are you the one sleeping with my son?"

Boromir could see the spray of water from Aragorn's mouth as he'd just tied to wet his dry mouth, a fountain like cascade over the white linen.

"Or perhaps you are the one defiling my son, Steward of Gondor?"

Boromir felt another glass stem snap under his fingers.

"Or are you 'teaching him extra lessons' Mithrandir?"

Gandalf downed his glass in full.

Gandalf wasn't drunk. He didn't get drunk, on wine or ale or other spirits. He was a Maia of pure power and he simply did not get drunk.

Unfortunately, his body was still that of an old man. It was getting very drunk on strong elven wine. It didn't help that Thranduil's eyes were a piercing as Saurons and almost as pissed off. Oh the elven King knew. He knew his son had given his heart away but he didn't yet know to whom and he'd jumped to the worst possible conclusion. The Men were no help; Aragorn looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and hide and Boromir was staring at the mess of crystal shards on his smoked fish. It was almost amusing. He knocked back another glass of wine. Very fine vintage, this.

"But I am already married!" Aragorn managed to half-wail in defence.

"Yes, your unfortunate fetish for elves have not gone unnoticed," Thranduil answered coldly. "Nor had your Stewarts suspicious lack of marriage arrangements."

Boromir turned white. With his father dead and Faramir happily married to Eowyn to secure the future line of stewarts, he'd rejoiced in his freedom from social conventions. He'd expected there to be gossip. He hadn't expected anyone to assume he'd fallen in love with Legolas. Least of all the elf's father.

"Would you please - could someone give his Man a goblet instead?!" Thranduil said impatiently as he saw the mess of a third glass in Boromir's hand. "Those were Second Age handblown Doriath heirlooms, you wouldn't believe how hard those are to get these days!"

"Maia don't marry." Mithrandir slurred, waving at a servant to fill his glass again.

"Don't tell me that, I grew up in Doriath." Thranduil snarled back.

"That was one Maia in the history of Arda!"

"If it has happened once it can happen again!"

Legolas gripped the table edge so hard it looked like it would break.

"Ada!" he hissed, his hair all but standing up like the fur on an enraged cat. "I assure you I have not slept with nor given my heart to any of my companions here! You are sorely mistaken and you are embarrassing yourself as well us!"

"Well then," Thranduil leaned back in his throne like chair, not looking embarrassed the slightest. "If you have not found any elven maid to your liking and not given your heart to your friends, then I can gladly accept the proposal sent to me the other day from the charming lady Allannia in Lothlorien...."

"What?! Haldir's sister? She's every bit as insufferable as he is!" Legolas' eyes bulged. "I refuse!"

"And why is that? It would be beneficial to our Kingdom and you say your heart is free...."

"Stop insinuating! there is nothing more between me and these friends than between you and King Bard of Laketown!"

The delicately arched eyebrow came up again, along with half a smile.

"Oh I don't think you want to compare my relationship with Bard to your relationship with your friends." He said softly.

It was Legolas turn to turn sheet white and flop back in his chair in shock. His father and...no. No, he couldn't think about it. It was too much, too....He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself.

"I am not marrying lady Allannia. And that is final."

This was not a drill. This was not a test of some kind, as he'd first expected. Aragorn's mind had went almost as blank as Legolas at the mention of Bard. He was used to verbal sparring and intricate diplomatic relations, but this was a full scale war. No matter what they did or said, Thranduil kept coming at them from some unexpected angle. Legolas was understandably all but frothing with anger, despite the recent shock. Boromir looked like he was half a minute from crying and Mithrandir was looking to drown himself in a wine barrel. They would be no help. it was up to him to try to steer this conversation - interrogation - into safer grounds before they all ran ashore. The only advantage they had was that the King seemed completely oblivious to the truth.

The third course was being served, some kind of meat with steamed vegetables and forest berry géle. It looked amazing and he was aware that he hadn't eaten any of the other courses. He was also acutely aware that the water stains on the linnen was entirely his fault.

Did elves still practice death penalty? He knew they had in Gondolin. He was pretty sure Thranduil was contemplating it.

Every history lesson he'd even had about Kinslayings came back to him as he saw the look in Legolas' eyes and the High King of Gondor realized he had slid halfway down under the table in an attempt to remove himself from the pure fury of eye contact between father and son.

Legolas really only had one plan, and that was to get his friends out of the banquet hall before they were subject to any more torture on his account. He just had absolutely no idea how to accomplish it. But it really wasn't fair that they should suffer to keep his secrets. Somewhere in the back of his mind burned the shock of his father and Bard, but he refused to let it distract him. It was about as easy as focusing on on an archery goal with a coal of burning ember on your head.

"Ada, if you have something to ask of me, then do it, but let's do it in private." He managed, half polite.

"But this is a matter to concern that needs to concern at least one of them." His father pointed at the three companions in turn - Boromir whimpered, Aragorn slid so far under the table that he was no taller than a hobbit and Mithrandir tried to find his mouth with his wine.

"Stop insinuating I sleep with one of my companions!" He was on his feet again, screaming at his father.

"Stop trying to hide that you are!" His father was on his feet to, screaming back. "Don't you think I know my own son?!"

"I don't think you would know love if it punched you in the face!"

"So you admit that you know it?! Let us hear then - which of these *worthy companions* have been defiling my only son?!" Suddenly a shock of horror came over the King, this one not faked, as if a terrible thought hit him. "Unless....it's all three of them?!"

That was it; Mithrandir counged wine all over his white shirt, Boromir kept whining 'we're dead, we're dead' and of Aragorn only the tip of his nose could be seen. Throwing all caution overboard, Legolas screamed.

"It's Gimli! It's the dwarf! The one you didn't even saw fit to invite! That's who I'm sleeping with! Happy now father?!"

Thranduil fell back in the chair as if he'd been hit on the head, all kingly decorum gone in an instant. Legolas was vaguely aware that he'd grabbed the linen and thrown it in his fit of rage and that all three of his friends, and himself, and number of guards and servant, were now covered in steamed vegetables and pieces of meat. A generous dot of géle had slapped straight in Boromir's face and was now slowly slipping over his shocked face towards his lap. Crushed crystal and plates were everywhere and some of the cutlery had crashed straight through a stained mosaic window, which, and never mind Second Age Doriath crystal glasses, were a wedding gift to his parents and came from pieces made in Valinor itself.

Oops.

From somewhere behind him, Legolas could almost make out money being exchanged between two guards.

"Control yourself!" Thranduil snapped, but there wasn't much force behind it anymore.

"I can't! Clearly I'm not living up to the royal standard. I resign!" Might as well, what with all the mess he'd made.

"You can't do that." Mithrandir had managed to catch a bottle, probably the only thing not smashed in the entire room, and was drinking from it. "Can't resign a royal elven position. Yours by, by, by virtue of succession and much royal thinking."

"Fuck royal thinking!"

"Fucking, yes. You and Gimli should get to it already. The unresolved sexual tension almost killed the rest of us throughout the entire quest."

Legolas could only stare, but turned back to his father.

Thranduil had known since he first lay eyes on his son after the quest that he had given his heart away - and from his cheerful disposition, that he'd received another in return. That didn't mean the shock hadn't gone straight to his heart.

Gallion had had his money on the Stewart because Boromir's reluctance to marriage well passed the point were Men with a line of succession to think of usually had such things cleared was well known. Also Boromir seemed to be the only none-elf in the Fellowship who had any perception of personal hygiene.

Elrond had of course betted on his foster son, because he was heavily biased toward the boy. Thranduil personally thought that perhaps the half-elf could have spent some more time teaching the would-be King of Gondor to wash his hair, but admittingly it had worked out with Arwen, Valar knew how.

And most of the guards and closest servant in his kingdom had gone for Mithrandir, probably of some nostalgic hope to restore a Doraith-like kingdom again.

Only Bard had grinned on put down a considerable sum on the *dwarf*, which Thranduil had assumed was just to tease his lover. Damn it. Well, at least he wasn't covered in foodstuff like the rest of the room.

"Gallion, if you would please escort my son and his *friends* back to their rooms to calm down. I dont' think they're in a state of mind to find it themselves. Oh, and tell the kitchen to send up some food for them. I don't think we'll be having cheese and dessert here." He waved at the mess.

"I - what?" Legolas managed eloquently. Poor boy. Still, a *dwarf*. With that shock to his poor father, some payback was only fair.

"We'll talk more tomorrow." He said firmly as the ever unflappable Gallion showed them the way out, still dribbling food and wine. But not before, Thranduil noted, Gallion had exchanged some money with the quartermaster. Damn it.

It was a very, very quiet little fellowship that fell into chairs in Legolas' room. The prince hid his face in his hand.

"This was not how I expected to tell him."

"To be fair, you weren't expecting to tell him ever, were you?" Aragorn, still trying to shut out Kinslaying anecdotes from his mind, said gently. "Perhaps it was for the best."

"Speak for yourself," Boromir had looked less exhausted with fright and exertion after an orch battle. "I think I got grey hairs after this."

"Always better to tell the truth." Mithrandir had finally gotten control over his metabolism and were getting sober by the minute, even though he didn't seem very happy about it.

"I know." Legolas sighed, then straightened up. "I apologize to all of you. I never could have imagined my father doing something like this." He shook his head. "And now I can't get the images out of my head! Him and....Bard!"

Aragorn smiled.

"Again, to be fair, I think your father has a similar problem."

Dwarves were the last thing on Thranduil's mind. He was laying in his bed, shirtless and with only a small silver band around his brow, while his lover was alternating between feeding him honey.cream pastries and lazily braiding his hair.

"Weren't these supposed to be dessert?" Bard asked as he bit into a pastrie. It was flaky and rich; just perfect.

"Hmm." Thranduil mumbled agreement.

"Your son hates honey cakes," Bard said mildly. Thranduil smiled wider. "Speaking of which, you owe me money. Quite a lot of money."

"I am aware. And you shall have it, in a minute or so."

"A minute? What..."

At the same time there was a knock on the door and Bard went to open it. Thranduil barely opened his eyes to glance at Gallion standing in the doorway. He saw the surprised look in his lover's eyes as the elf handed over a heavy bag of coins with the words 'from the Kings winnings'.

As he came back to the bed and sat back down, Bard held up the bag.

"You sly elf. You were covering your bets, weren't you?"

"Of course I did. But I expect to get every coin back, with the dowery I will demand from that dwarf's family."

Bard couldn't hold back a laugh.

"You are one evil King, you know that?"

Shuffling down deeper into his bedding like a satisfied cat, Thranduil smiled.

"I'm going to bleed those dwarves dry. In the meanwhile, feel free to keep flattering me."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'm insinuating that Boromir is gay or ace? It's not important in this fic anyway so feel free to think whatever you want about it.


End file.
